


If Tomorrow Never Comes

by flippednique



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Go grab a tissue box, M/M, Phichit is sick, Read at your own risk my friends, Seung-gil is a nurse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippednique/pseuds/flippednique
Summary: An inoperable tumor, a clinical trial program. Two sides to one story. Denial is not just a river in Egypt. It’s in the person sitting in front of him. “I’m not in denial, Seung-gil. I’ve simply just accepted it.”





	If Tomorrow Never Comes

・・・--------☆

_It takes a moment for the camera to adjust; there are several tries of getting the damn thing to focus. Their regular guy couldn’t come today and it’s making the process of setting up go longer than it has to be. Once things work out, the subject is seen fidgeting with a bracelet on his right wrist with the long fingers of his left hand, his eyes are trained towards something bright to his left, his mind anywhere but here in the present. The interviewer clears their throat to gain his attention._

_“Sorry for the delay, technology can be quite fickle.”_

_He answers with a polite smile, a slight shake of his head. “That’s alright. I used to be pretty tech-savvy, until, well…”_

_“Right.” The air turns just the slightest bit heavy, and they attempt to diffuse the tension. “Perhaps we should get started? I’m sure you have a lot to say.”_

_“I don’t even know where to begin.”_

_“Maybe you should introduce yourself? Start simple, then we’ll go from there.” `_

His parents had named him Phichit Chulanont and he had been born absolutely perfect. He had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. He had gripped his mother’s hand with all his little might. His father carried him on his shoulders and he had shrieked loudly with his little voice. He had been young then yet they knew he was strong. As he grew older, he became even stronger in some ways, not so much in others.

He has a big sister who he doesn’t get along with very well half the time, but she trusts him enough to look after her kid when she has to work an extra shift at the local diner. New York was a busy place and his apartment isn’t much, but Madee has fun when she has to spend time with her uncle, at least Phichit would like to think she does. 

_“And you were watching over your niece when the first incident happened?”_

_“No, when I look back on how I was doing and evaluate myself like the doctors have asked me to then that wasn’t the first incident. It was just the first one that someone else got hurt because of me. The others I just passed as my being too tired or my being too unfocused.”_

_“Baby-sitting your niece has always been smooth sailing then?”_

_“We’ve had our mishaps of course, what baby sitter hasn’t messed up while on the watch?”_

_“True.”_  

It was just never this bad though. 

“I can’t believe you dropped her, Phichit.” Phaelyn said for what must have been the fifteenth time in that one hour.  Phaelyn is older than him by four years, and even with such a small difference she has her life together. She had a stable job, a good husband and a savings account for rainy days, unlike Phichit. 

His niece was sucking on her fingers, staring at him with wide eyes and long lashes and a blank stare. She had a small bump on her head where she’d hit herself when Phichit dropped her that afternoon. If Madee weren’t always such a stare-y kind of baby, he would be pulling at his hair with worry too. 

Phichit presses his hand to his own head, sensing an intense migraine coming along. “I’m really sorry, sis. I don’t even know what happened.”

“You dropped my child.” Phaelyn says unhelpfully. “Phichit, have you been getting enough sleep?” 

“No.” He answers and that was the truth. How can he be sleeping when he gets sick and tired so often that he can’t keep a stable job to pay for his meds? He forgets stuff, important stuff and it’s starting to get frustrating. He can’t reign in his emotions properly anymore and he doesn’t understand _why_. Something is wrong, sometimes it feels as if everything is wrong. It feels as if he isn’t in control of his own body.

Phaelyn is staring at him and it makes him duck his head between his shoulders, as his ears burn hot with shame. “Phichit, I think you should go see a doctor.” 

He doesn’t argue with her. She gives him the money he’ll need. It’s money he thinks will go to waste. Hospitals are horrible places, all they want is for you to get sick so they can earn. Even when you’re okay, they keep you and bleed you until your wallet is dry. Then they do something to make you come back. It’s a tiring process. They make him do a lot of things, see a lot of different people. White labcoats, white walls. Needles and pricks, chemistry and hematology, CT-scans and x-rays, and a ton of others things he can now talk about in his sleep. Which would be a miracle, he feels like he hasn’t shut his eyes closed in years. Sometimes he wishes they would stay shut forever.

_“I was so sick of it. Still am, if I’m being a hundred percent honest.”_

_“What changed? What made you enter the program?”_

One day, he left the hospital as a man who was three hundred dollars poorer. That was nothing to the almost thousand he thinks he’s spent on previous tests and lab works.

What was shocking was that, well, he left the hospital a man with a test result that changed absolutely everything.

_“My parents named me Phichit Chulanont and at the time I had been twenty-six years old. I joined the program because I had nothing left to fight for,” He smiles weakly at the camera. “I had an inoperable tumor.”_

Life hadn’t been good at that moment. 

But he had to stay positive. 

 

・・・--------☆ 

_They get the cameras set up a lot faster this time around because the guy in charge was around which was an insanely good thing because the subject doesn’t tolerate his time being wasted. Though, who would? People in the medical field seem to have too little to no time to spare._

_“Thank you for agreeing to this.” The interviewer cringes inwardly as her attempt in small talk is returned with a blank face. She clears her throat awkwardly and looks through her notes. “So, we understand that you’ll have to give up personal information at some point.”_

_“All in the name of research.”_

_“Yes, but you’re quite welcome to speak off the record. If you want anything scratched out the documentary, feel free to say so.”_

_“That’s, very considerate of you.”_

His name is Seung-gil Lee. He works for a special health team that deals with oddly enough, inoperable tumors. There’s a lot of complicated jargon that normal people wouldn’t be able to appreciate, the main point here was that they were trying to save the lives that were, all things considered, just days maybe even hours away from being over.   

Or they would if they could finally get the formula for the virus right. Inoperable tumors, especially those in the brain were all unique. The only thing similar about them was that they were highly complicated and, you guessed it, inoperable.

And tumors chose no one in particular; men, women, adults, children, anyone could get it.  

Yakov Feltsman paid Seung-gil and several other people good money to work on the discovery of a virus that would digest and dissolve the tumor mass without actually harming the brain. It’s the same way they cured a little girl of cancer with HIV. They were basing their own study on that in the hopes of finding a cure for his pseudo-grandson who this whole study revolved on.  

_“Mr. Feltsman treats you and the other researchers well?”_

_“He screened the medical and research team himself. This project means a lot to him.”_

_“And the funding?”_

_“Mr. Feltsman owns multiple businesses scattered all across the globe. How do you think he’s managed to get people of different nationalities to work for him?”_

_“And just for clarifications sake, everyone on board is legally employed by Mr. Feltsman?”_

_“Yes. You can check the contracts yourself.”_

_“That won’t be necessary. Please continue.”_

It was a Saturday when they got a new patient. A man named Phichit Chulanont. 

Sara Crispino passes by Seung-gil’s table and makes an excited noise that was a little hard to ignore. “We have a new member of the family!”

“You mean you have a new labrat?” Seung-gil pushes her hands off his charts and papers. “Not all of us want to live in whatever delusional world you do, Sara.”

“Seung-gil.” She said, stern. “We are trying to help these people get better.”

Seung-gil glances at the wall behind her and Sara instinctively turns around to look too.

The board read; **“No deaths in 11 days.”**

Sara exhales, her breath coming out just a little shakily. “It will all be worth it in the end.” 

Seung-gil stands up, Phichit’s charts in his hands. “See. He’s just another guinea pig.” 

The house had three floors. Since the patients were all in different states of criticality, they had to stay there. Seung-gil doesn’t know what might possibly convince a person to admit themselves to something comparable to a prison, or an asylum. Even if it meant a hefty compensation, he’d rather be somewhere safe and familiar.

Maybe it was the desperation? Clinging to hope, even when it could possibly be false? 

That’s what desperate people do. 

Phichit Chulanont’s room is on the second floor, it’s right across from Yakov’s grandson’s. The entire second floor looks like a hospital ward. There was white everywhere and the walls are made of glass. 

Right now there were five patients in total, not counting Yuri who wasn’t participating in the clinical trials. Merely there for observation.

Seung-gil steeled himself. As head nurse, he’s always had the ‘ _privilege'_ of welcoming new patients. 

_“Do you not enjoy your work, Mr. Lee?”_

_“Would you enjoy it when you know you’re responsible for the death of a human being?”_

_“The participants knew what they were getting into. They were told the risks.”_

_“That makes it alright? Perhaps it’s easy to say things when you aren’t the one who has to watch them come in with their eyes all full of hope and then six days later, not even a week in, those same eyes stare dully at nothing. See nothing. Because they’re dead.”_

_“You get quite attached to the participants, don’t you Mr. Lee?”_

_“I try not to.”_

Tears. There were always tears. And there was also a lot of stammering and gratitude for welcoming them into the program. 

How Seung-gil wishes he could tell them that this was a waste of time. Over six people have died in the search for a virus that worked. 

How much longer were they allowed to play god? 

When Seung-gil finds the moment to look up from the chart he was studying, eh almost drops it. Phichit Chulanont’s bed was empty.

_“You’re serious?”_

“ _Does it look like I’m joking? I hadn’t even met him and already he was being a pain in the behind.”_

・・・--------☆

Phichit couldn’t sit still. Everything was so white and he hated it. He seriously hated hospitals. The reason, well one of the many anyways, that he joined the clinical trials for the search of a virion cure (whatever that was) was so that he wouldn’t have to stay at the hospital. But this place was so much like a hospital; Phichit supposed the only difference was that he and the other patients weren’t contained to their rooms.

At least Phiciht doesn’t think they were. Oh well, it’s not like he’s wandered too far. He was still on the same floor. The room across from his is different in a sense that it has certain privileges that Phichit’s doesn’t. And the patient inside was younger than him, blond with green eyes filled with anger. He also had a visitor. 

“Get out.” 

“Yura.” his visitor says in warning then turns to Phichit. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.” 

Phichit laughs, trying to diffuse the tense situation. “I’m sorry. I’m new, Phichit.” 

He extends a hand, it’s shaken and well received. 

“Otabek.” Otabek gestures to the bed. “This is Yura, he’s just woken up.” 

“Not a morning person?” Phichit asks, jokingly. 

“Not usually, no.” Otabek smiled sadly. “Also he’s run out of morphine so he’s a little crabbier than the norm.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always like this.” Yura grumbled, sinking deeper into his bed and hiding behind a white comforter. Phichit’s eyes move to where there’s a needle stuck in his hand, connected to tubes and an IV bag. He gulps.

_“I hate needles.” The subject says it with a rather breathless laugh, his fingers moving to rub against the top of his hand where dextrose had probably been housed for several months. “I mean, I could eat and use the bathroom well enough. I didn’t technically need the dextrose until the trial started and they began poking in my head.”_

_“And how long was it before that happened?”_

_“Not too long, actually.”_

“Have they started your trial yet?” Otabek says, calling Phichit’s attention. 

He shakes his head. “No, I just got here.”

“Don’t you have someone with you? A friend or family?” Yura asked testily. “Did the idiots explain what they were going to do?” 

“Idiots?” Phichit echoes. 

“He means the doctors,” Otabek said. “but don’t worry. They’re all very competent. Everyone on the team is. Don’t be afraid to approach them when you have questions or concerns, although I suppose Seung-gil told you all of this.” 

“Who’s Seung-gil?” 

“Ha.” It sounds ike a laugh but Yura dissolves into a fit of coughs after. Were they really in this place for the same reason? Why does it seem like he’s so much worse off than Phichit. Was that the result of the treatment? “He’s gonna hate you for making him look for you.” 

“Hate?” Phichit squeaks, his full attention now riveted to Otabek and his nerves frazzled. He didn’t want anyone hating him. Especially one of the med staff. “Maybe I should get back to my room.” 

“I think that’s a good idea.” A new voice. 

Phichit turns around. 

“Hello Phichit, my name’s Seung-gil. If you could please come with me.” 

Seung-gil doesn’t even wait for him to reply, Phichit doesn’t think he could have even if he did. He feels a little light headed, was Yura right and this man hated him already? 

“Don’t make him wait.” Yura grumbled, jolting Phichit into attention. 

Phichit makes his way out of the room, belatedly glancing over his shoulder to say thank you and goodbye, maybe throw in an apology. The sight that met me sent a lump to my throat. 

Yura’s eyes were closed and he was curled up on his side, his eyebrows pulled together. If Phichit were closer, he could confirm whether or not he was gritting his teeth in pain. Otabek was sitting on the bed behind Yura, threading his fingers through the short blond hair. So pale. So delicate looking. 

To Phichit, in that moment, Yura looked like an elf. One of those majestic creatures from something like Lord of The Rings. But Yura, he looked like one good blow would knock him over if Otabek wasn’t there to help him. A twinge of something goes through Phichit. 

Was that his future here? Although he’s going through this alone? At least Yura had Otabek. 

_Ahhh, let’s stay positive here Phichit. Just stay positive._

・・・--------☆

_“What made you stay, Mr. Lee? If it gets hard for you to remain detached from the patients?”_

_“Someone had to do it.”_

Seung-gil know the signs of denial when he sees them. He wonders how long it will take Phichit Chulanont to break and drop this cheerful facade of his. It’s been a week into Phichit’s immersion into the program and he’s remained optimistic despite the start of enzyme introduction. There’s a lot of patient preparation to be done before they’re ready for the virus. They need them to be as healthy as possible before Viktor opens their heads to have a look-see so they could determine the right ratio between tumor mass and virus. It’s a ridiculously long procedure, but if they could make it work, that means finding the cure to an inoperable malignant tumor. 

Phichit’s hair is thick and he absentmindedly plays with a lock of it. “They’re gonna have to shave this all off, huh?” 

“Yes.” Seung-gil says, rechecking his IV drip. The doctors had him on some very strong painkillers so the administration of the enzymes would go smoothly. Since everything was oil-based, it was bound to hurt and they didn’t exactly want to scare the patients away back to their families. They needed them for the clinical trials.

_Lab rats._

Phichit though didn’t seem like he had anyone to run back to. No one had come to admit him when he signed the participation forms at the hospital and even when they’d ask for his consent to transfer his case to Seung-gil’s group, there had been no waiting period. No consultation with the family needed. This man was all alone.

Maybe that’s why death doesn’t scare him? 

He doesn’t look bothered at all. He looks… calm. 

Denial is not just a river in Egypt. 

It’s in the person sitting in front of him. 

“You ever think about love, Seung-gil?” 

“No.” Seung-gil’s answer is straight forward. He doesn’t have time for love. He was a man of science. Love is a mix of chemicals in hormones that make you THINK you need the company of another human being. Love can be swayed by circumstance and properly articulated sentences. Love is not concrete, it is abstract, and it is unstable.

“ _I don’t like instability. I am a stable person who knows better than to let my emotions sway my control.”_

_The interviewer smiles grimly. “I see.”_

Phichit is quiet, but now he’s staring at Seung-gil thoughtful and obviously itching to ask him something else. There’s a small beeping noise that cuts their sudden silence. Beeping noises that come out of nowhere meant dinner. Seung-gil made his way out of Phichit’s room and went to accept the tray of food from Leo, who was one of their part time volunteer helpers. His older sister had once been a patient, she was death 3 and yet he still came back. 

“I thought you’d be at your table.” Leo said but handed the tray over to Seung-gil anyways. “You want your food too?” 

“Sure.” He accepts another tray and makes his way back into the room.

Phichit’s turned the TV on in Seung-gil’s absence and had a cartoon playing. He looks up with a dimpled smile when Seung-gil returns and says. “You remind me of Grumpy Smurf.” 

“Smurf?” Seung-gil sets his food on a food-extending table before him. 

“Blue things about three apples high.” Phichit pokes curiously at his several platters. “Fish.” 

“You aren’t allergic to anything.” Seung-gil says, thinking back to his chart. 

“What? Oh, yeah. I mean, I like fish. My mom used to cook a lot of fish back in Thailand.” Phichit sounds wistful. “Makes me wish I could go back.” 

“You can still back out.” Seung-gil reminds him. “Patients are allowed to pull out of the contract anytime they want to.”

“Pull out…” Phichit shakes his head. “No. No, this is a commitment. I’m in this to the end.” 

 _‘To death’_ was the unspoken agreement. 

Seung-gil doesn’t know what else to say to that. The mood was slightly somber, the little blue blobs on the TV screen not doing anything to lighten it. Seung-gil holds his own tray of food awkwardly then decides to make his leave.

Phichit makes a surprised noise. 

Seung-gil looks over my shoulder at him. “What?” 

“Nothing.” He gestures to a seat by his bed. “Just thought you’d like to have lunch together.” 

Seung-gil doesn’t usually do it, but he takes the seat he’s offered and sits with him through our meal. There’s silence, but it’s different from their usual silences. More comfortable than polite. 

Phichit flashes him a smile, dimpled but more real. 

For some reason, this one reached his eyes and he looked more alive than Seung-gil has ever seen him before.

_“Is that how it started?”_

_“What started?”_

_“She means the relationship.”_

_“Oh, well. I guess? He just became more of a friend than my med staff.”_

_“And he was looking less like my patient.”_

_“Interesting. Shall we continue?”_

**Author's Note:**

> So, who dies this time? AHAHHAHA PLEASE DON'T KILL ME.


End file.
